A letter from son to father
He’s given his heart back to it’s rightful owner
Now, ALL of his tools are in working order.
His white light is no longer truncated into strange
He is neither royally grand nor worthlessly insignificant.
Now, he perceives your love directly.
He understands you as the true son that you are.
There is no longer the Bandying about over the words
because he no longer speaks in THAT way.
He speaks in the spirit
which you’ve always longed for him to speak.
The temptation to triumph over natural forces pisses on him,
because those forces now rule him.
His body has changed into an elemental time card
punching in and out at will, there is only TRUE work,
without the physical delusion of beginning and ending.
He’s making amends in ways never before dreamed of.
He used to pass through that particular spot in the park,
where the giant oak tree shadowed the meadow just so,
the river, carrying the vines of the blackberry on it’s back.
The spot where wayfarers were forced to stop and contemplate.
He used to wonder what the big deal was, what was it about that spot?
Why did it make them stop? Why did HE feel the need to stop?
in his current vehicle, the one he’s come to refer to as the “light offering kaleidoscope of transe-edification”, he spends a great amount of time here,
He is the one pollinating the flowers
He has become one of the little ones
The joyful little builders of the vortex,
which captures those bound to the marrow.
He’s giving you the gifts, he’s always longed to give you, but never knew how.
He speaks to you through the redeeming realities which spring forth
into your memories of him.
His light, in you
has become an incontrovertible beam
an absolutely integral part of the spanning bridge.
His voice in you
has allowed you to become
the true son, you know yourself to be.